"Your story should be written now while it is fresh and while the true details are available. A journal is the literature of superiority. Each individual can become superior in her own humble life." ~Spencer W. Kimball

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Friday, September 2, 2011

Blissfully Content

I woke up and opened all of the windows. I love days of open windows. I feel proud in the fact that I didn't use any AC or the heater. But it is more than that. Something I can't quite describe.

It was a lazy day. Our plans for the splash pad and the hollow were changed. Instead, we played with each other around the house.

I remember sitting in the living room, the sun shining through the windows, and loving the moment. It was one of those golden moments where you know you will remember it forever. A moment that seems illuminated like a memory from a movie all golden and hazy.

The children were sitting on the floor playing with the lincoln logs, animals and cowboys and indians. They were happy and kind to one another. After a little while, Faye brought me a library book and climbed into my lap. Keith leaned on my shoulder and we read.

It was peaceful.

It was golden.

A moment that must be documented, so I can look back on it, when I am old, and warm myself with it. Because that is how it works. I work hard now to create those memories, stocking them up and storing them away for a day when my children no longer need me like they do now. A time when they have families of their own. To keep me from feeling lonely.

This morning I was greeted with another simple joy.

I always sleep with the window open in the summer. It gets too hot not to. Last night was no exception.

When I awoke this morning, it was cold! Not so cold I was shivering, but cold enough that my blankets were cozy. I nestled down into them and smiled. This is the way it should be year round. A high of open windows and a low of blanket snuggling. The smell of French Toast wafted down to greet me. Jeffrey had gotten up early, and surprised us all with breakfast ready when our eyes opened. Again I say, this is the way it should be year round. But then again, if it were, who knows if I would cherish it as much?